


Kidnapped

by Kaijuscientists



Series: Fictober 2020 [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Kidnapping, M/M, Sickfic, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaijuscientists/pseuds/Kaijuscientists
Summary: Word of the bard that travels with a witcher travels quickly.Word also travels round that this witcher might be fond of the bard, and well, that would paint a target on anyone's back.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Fictober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949386
Comments: 1
Kudos: 93





	Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

> Never written these two before, and I’ve only ever seen the show, yooooo
> 
> 2\. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  
> “Pick Who Dies” | Collars | Kidnapped

Jaskier is holding down the camp while Geralt is out hunting them some dinner. He successfully got a nice fire going on his own, and is sitting close to it fiddling with his lute, playing with new melodie’s for his next grand song about the witcher's conquests. When suddenly a burlap bag is shoved over his head and he’s hefted up and thrown over someone's shoulder. His lute clatters to the ground with a hollow thunk.

“Hey!” Jaskier exclaims, hitting his kidnapper in the back with balled fists. “Put me down!”

Jaskier struggles for all of a minute, but the arms holding him do not budge and he quickly figure out that whomever has him is way stronger than he is.

“Listen, whatever it is that I did, I am deeply sorry.” Jaskier says, his nerves rising as he starts to ramble. “If I've done something to offend you, allow me to make it up to you?”

He gets no response, just heavy footsteps through the brush of the forest. He wonders how far they’ve gotten away from the camp so far. If he can get his captor to stop, even for just a few minutes, there’s a chance that Geralt might return and be able to help him. 

“Did I speak to your lady?” He asks, guessing now at what kind of transgression may have occurred. “If it's coin you’re after, I have it. I can get you anything you want, if you’ll just stop and let me go.”

He gets nothing but more silence, and the continued footsteps as he is carried away from camp, and away from any prospect of help. He’s sure that Geralt will just continue on if he comes back and he’s gone. 

Jaskier takes a deep breath, and starts to yell as loudly as he can, calling for help, for Geralt, but he’s cut off by a hit to the head, effectively shutting him up, vision going dark. 

\---------

When Jaskier comes too, he’s trussed up to a tree, but he is free of his burlap prison, which he supposes is better. Unfortunately he’s not anywhere he recognizes, his head hurts and he’s cold.

His captors, three of them, sit around a fire. He’s far enough away that he can’t feel the heat, but he can hear them discussing in a hushed voice. 

“You think the witcher will really come?”

“If the rumors are true, yeah I reckon he will.” 

“What do we do when he does? You thought ahead that far?”

There’s some garbled discussion, and he can’t parse words over them talking over each other. 

“...then we give them his head and get our reward.”

Jaskier doesn't like the sound of that at all. 

“Sirs, hey, excuse me.” Jaskier calls out, trying to get their attention. “I may have overheard you talking about the witcher.”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“It’s just that, well, if you think he’ll come here just save me, you’ve got the wrong idea.” 

“He will, and then we’ll take care of him.”

Jaskier just laughs at the thought. 

“If you wanted him why not just wait until he was at our camp.” Jaskier asks. 

“Cuz we wanted him in our territory, have the upper hand.”

Jaskeir laughs, as if Geralt wouldn't have the upper hand wherever these men decided to engage him. 

“You three would be no match for him anyway.” 

“Shut up,” one of the men say.

“Geralt will never be bested by the likes of you.” Jaskier continues, he was never one to realize when he should stop. “He can take down vicious beasts on his own, what’s three regular human men? Nothing!”

Jaskier keeps talking, until one of the men walks over to him with a rag and shoves it in his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.” 

The men leave him tied where he is, far enough away from the fire that he can’t even feel a lick of the heat. The temperature is falling, and Jaskier is scared now that if he falls asleep he might freeze. He’s already cold and shivering, and gagged he can’t ask for help. He’s tired and hurting, and it seems no matter how hard he tries he can’t keep his eyes open. 

Jaskier wakes the next morning freezing but thankfully still alive. 

He’s ignored for the most part, tied to his tree, sitting on the damp ground, while snow is starting to fall around them. No offers of food, or water, nothing.

As night begins to fall again, he’s finally worked the rag out of his mouth enough that he can spit it out. He works his jaw, sore from having been force open for so long. 

“Can I please move closer to the fire?” Jasker calls out, his voice hoarse because his mouth and throat are so dry.

“Maybe we should let ‘em, don’t want him to die before the witcher can get here.”

“What does it matter if he’s dead or alive? He’ll show up nonetheless.” 

He’s able to beg for mercy for just a minute before the rag is picked up and shoved unforgivingly in his mouth, eventually losing consciousness as his temperature drops. 

\---------------

The next time Jaskier comes to, he’s a little warmer, and he feels like he’s floating. Slowly awareness comes back to him, and he realizes that he’s not floating, but being carried. 

He cracks his eyes open, surprised to see Geralt’s gruff face.

“You're lucky the bastards left obvious tracks.”

Jaskier finds he doesn’t have the energy to respond, shivering and dozing in Geralt’s arms. 

Which as it turns out, was still pretty close.

At the camp, Geralt is quick to get the fire going again, settling Jaskier close to it tucked into his bedroll, the stolen blanket layered over top. 

Geralt forces him to sit up and drink a disgusting tea, but it’s warm so Jaskier decides he won’t complain, much anyway. 

“You were worried.” Jaskier rasps, his voice gone hoarse, 

“Hmm.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier says, sipping tea, only making a little bit of a face. “This is disgusting.”

“Drink it,” Geralt says, fixing Jaskier with a glare. 

Jaskier finishes his drink, and as gross as it was, he does feel a little better for it. The tea warming him from within, and taking the edge off his aching head. 

“Don’t do it again.” Gerald huffs, taking the cup from the bard. “Rest.”

Geralt lets Jaskier rest for a whole day before they pick back up and get on the road. 

It’s when Geralt lets him ride Roach into the next village, where he says he’s going to buy them a room for at least 2 nights and a hot bath for the bard, Jaskier realizes he was wrong to ever think Geralt didn’t care enough to come to his aid.


End file.
